


Normalcy Be Damned

by ThePursuit



Category: Free!
Genre: (maybe?) - Freeform, Awkward Boners, Awkward Sexual Situations, Boys In Love, Clothed Sex, Dubious Consent, Falling In Love, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rutting, Voice Kink, Wet Dream, dubcon, or rather, realizing you've always been in love but you never acknowledged it because you're a dumbass, sexually confused Haru, sleeping in close quarters is hard for gay nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePursuit/pseuds/ThePursuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his pre-sleep reverie, Haru fleetingly wonders if they're too old to being doing this. </p><p>Sleeping together.</p><p>In the same bed, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Normalcy Be Damned

**Author's Note:**

> I have this headcanon that Haru has a lot going on behind that blank face of his.
> 
> Wow I really just kind of vomited all of my kinks onto my OTP ahaha whoops

In his pre-sleep reverie, Haru fleetingly wonders if they're too old to being doing this.

Sleeping together.

In the same bed, that is.

It was just never something that they'd talked about. They'd done it since they were so small, it seemed to Haru it would be weirder if they suddenly stopped. Besides, it wasn't weird in the first place; an innocuous gesture between friends. _Very close friends_ , he mentally amends. This probably wasn't something that most teenage boys did - he wasn't so incognizant of social norms as to suggest that.

But be that as it may, Haru couldn't truly bring himself to care. He cherished these... these moments of closeness. He considered himself pretty independent, but he couldn't deny that there were times when this big house was a little too empty. When the quiet was a little deafening. The space a little suffocating.

When Makoto was here, everything seemed...

Right. Stable. Better.

Makoto always fell asleep first. Always. Haru used to think that Makoto was probably just busier than him, had more reason to be tired (with those two little siblings, hell, Haru wonders how Makoto's even standing up straight sometimes,) but more recently he's started wondering if he waits for Makoto to fall asleep because he just likes to watch it happen. By now, Haru knows every little step, every little cue. Makoto almost always likes to talk in bed a little before they go to sleep (" _pillow talk_ ," Haru contemplates in passing.) Nothing deep or thought provoking, but the rambling and paradoxically soothing thoughts of a sleepy boy, ("Sometimes I wonder if the cats talk about me when I'm not around. Is that silly? It's probably silly, huh? I wonder what they'd say...") Next, he starts blinking a little more frequently, and Haru can see his eyelids getting a little heavier each time. He'll smack his lips a few times, too. Haru likes that. That especially... he finds it endearing. He has pretty lips, Makoto, and Haru has learned to like the sound they make when they separate wetly as they do when he is falling asleep. Haru can tell he's really starting to go when he starts to kneed the sheets ( _like a cat_ , thinks Haru) and nudge his face against his pillow softly. Occasionally, he'll still be speaking in mumbles about nothing in particular, and that's probably one of Haru's favorite things in the world. In that case, he'll murmur quietly, "Goodnight, Makoto," and sometimes Makoto will respond with some semblance of a "goodnight," or sometimes he will already be too far gone into his dreams to say anything at all. And Haru is okay with that.

Social norms be damned, Haru thinks Makoto looks like an absolute angel when he's asleep.

And so tonight he's watching closely. Studying Makoto's sleeping face, listening to him breathe, as he sometimes does before he himself goes to sleep. He wonders if he could ever draw Makoto, really capture his likeness. He's so gentle looking - it would probably be hard to truly depict his softness with the sharp edge of pencil lead.

And as Haru finds himself considering the most appropriate method to render Makoto's peaceful expression, something happens to it that he can't recall ever happening before.

Makoto, in his sleep, knits his brow tightly and huffs a quick breath of heated air out of his nose. Haru dares venture to think he may have even caught a strained whimper in the rush.

He knows it irrational, but Haru... he feels a little violated, if he were being completely honest. The serene face that he counts on being the last thing he sees before he lulls to sleep himself suddenly and unexpectedly tainted by a distorted expression (one that is significantly less soothing, might he add.) The sentiment only lasts a moment, though, before he dismisses it with a mental shake of the head. Must be a nightmare, he thinks, just as he hears the rough rustle of sheets from below.

Makoto lets out another soft, keening noise and shifts restlessly. Just for a moment. _Must be an awful nightmare. He's so fitful._ Haru notices that Makoto's face looks a little more colored than he remembers it, and he's gripping the covers so tightly Haru can see the whites of his knuckles. Another jerky rustle of sheets can be heard only a few feet below him.

Haru suddenly feels very claustrophobic. Since when is his bed so small? Since when is this room so hot? Since when is there nowhere else to look but down? He can't quite place a finger on it, but something, _something_ , is telling him not to look down. So Haru instead closes his eyes and tells himself to sleep. It's just a nightmare. Staying up to watch it run its course will do no one any good. Get some sleep.

" _Unnngh..._ "

Jesus christ, what was that?

Haru's not an expert on nightmares, but he doubts that a sound like... like _that_ has ever been made when under any circumstance other than...

A sharp, sickly jolt pangs through his chest. And against all his better judgment, he looks down.

Makoto is thrusting shallowly against the sheets, belated and subdued by the depths of sleep. His hips are angled just slightly so that his thrusts rub up against the mattress. Even under his t-shirt, Haru can see how his muscles are taut and tense. He's kneading the bed again, but somehow this time it appears to Haru less like relaxing into sleep and more like desperately searching for a grip on something.

This isn't any sort of nightmare Haru's ever seen before, he muses as another pang strikes him significantly lower than his chest. Just then, Makoto makes a particularly illy aimed thrust and brushes his thigh.

Oh,

_Oh,_

_Oh god no no no._

Makoto's as hard as Haru's ever seen (felt?) and suddenly he's aware of every goddamn move that Makoto makes. When did he start panting? Was he sweating a minute ago?

Haru's the first to admit that he is perhaps not the most acquainted with normal social conduct, but he is 900% sure that there is no premeditated social etiquette attached to sleeping in close quarters with your best friend and watching them start having a particularly vivacious wet dream.

He could wake him up, but Makoto would probably be so embarrassed he might not even be able to look at him for a few days, and Haru is so stricken at the thought that he immediately disregards that course of action. So, what other options were there other than that? It seems... _wrong_ to not do anything. If their places were switched, Haru would want Makoto to wake him.

He thinks.

He wouldn't really _know_ if Makoto didn't wake him. The only way he would know anything was happening in the first place was _if_ Makoto woke him. Yes, Haru decides, it would be best if Makoto never woke him at all. Save some embarrassment for the both of them.

Suddenly, Haru finds himself contemplating that scenario. From... past experience on solitary nights... Haru knows that he's not very loud. A little gasping, a little panting, some groaning and grunting when he can feel himself closing in on the end. Certainly not like Makoto, who is making more and more quiet whining and whimpering noises the longer his dream goes on. He must be pretty vocal in bed, Haru notes, and he feels dirty knowing something so intimate about his best friend without his permission. Haru tears himself away from that thought before he can feel any more guilty and returns to the image of Makoto watching him dream. Something about that... Makoto's eyes searching him as he gets off... he starts to feel something stir in his gut that causes him to silently panic.

He is not going to get an erection. Not right now, for the love of christ. He was never one to get many awkward boners, but he cannot think of a worse time to get one than when in bed with your friend while he is having a sex dream.

Haru starts to wonder if this kind of reaction isn't normal.

It probably it is, right? The human body will react to any stimuli that evokes arousing thoughts. People watch porn all the time, (not Haru though - he was never much interested) and they still get hot even when there is someone of the same sex present. He isn't aroused by his friend, he is aroused by the _idea_ of his friend.

Yeah, that sounded like a stretch, even in his head.

So here he is, watching Makoto rut against his mattress in his sleep while Haru comes to terms with the fact that he is starting to harden a little himself and shit when did he start sweating.

Haru won't lie, though: Makoto looks good with a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin like that. And damn, Haru's never heard such hungry little noises before. They're so quiet, so gentle, just a short puff, a barely-there whimper, a stuttered breath.

Before Haru can stop it, a thought embeds itself in his head:

_I wonder what would happen if I touched him right now._

And Haru has given up all hope of retaining normalcy.

He really wants to, though. Not sexually even, but just... brush his arm. Linger on his chest. Wipe his sweat-dampened bangs out of his squeezed-shut eyes.

He toys with the thought for a moment, and comes to the conclusion that it's probably a really bad idea. If Makoto woke up, there was no possible explanation for Haru skimming his fingers over Makoto's sleeping form while half-hard and clearly sleepless. But damn, Haru really wants to. Really badly. He's just curious, he tells himself, but if that's really all, this "curiosity" is the most intense want he's felt in a very long time.

Slowly - so, so, so slowly - Haru reaches his fingers out and just barely brushes Makoto's upper arm.

And Makoto's breath audibly catches.

And Haru feels his brain shut off.

Haru's really starting to feel tight down below, but he's only vaguely ashamed for barely a moment before his malfunctioning brain tells him to _keep going_. He skims his fingers up Makoto's arm with a sinfully light touch, and Haru gazes on in awe as he feels Makoto's muscles tense and relax underneath his fingertips. He stops to trace the chiseled outline of Makoto's tightened bicep, ( _for the first time he feels like he finally understands what Kou fusses about all the time._ ) He hesitates at the hem of his t-shirt before he continues on around Makoto's broad shoulder. Haru concludes that the feel of loose fabric is no match to the feel of taut skin, but it will have to do because now that he's started touching he just can't bring himself to stop. Makoto's reacting a little to his fingers too, he can tell. His breaths are shallower than they were, and his lips have parted just a fraction. It's good enough for Haru.

That is, it was good enough, until Haru is tracing around the edges of Makoto's chest and he catches on one of his nipples.

" _Ahhn~!!_ "

Haru freezes.

His cock literally throbs.

That was the most erotic noise he has ever heard.

And it was _loud._

It's time to stop. He needs to stop. As unbelievably thrilling as that moan (that _moan_ , he _moaned_ ) may have been, it brought Haru back to reality enough for him to acknowledge that whatever confusion he was suddenly experiencing about his sexuality was not worth risking his relationship with Makoto. Haru collects himself with a huff of breath. He closes his eyes and breathes slowly thereafter, mentally urging his growing erection to die down so that he, too, may find sleep.

"H-Haah--!"

Makoto gives an especially rough thrust into the bed that rocks Haru out of whatever peace he is desperately searching for. That wasn't just a harsh breath; there was voice behind that one.

He must be getting close, Haru thinks with another throb that attempts to undo all the effort he has been putting in to calming himself down.

Another thrust.

"Ha... Haah...  
Hah- _Ha-Haru~!!_ "

Haru has never gotten so hard so fast in his entire life.

Maybe he misheard him. Makoto... he wouldn't have called his name. Not during a sex dream. That was wishful thinking ( _granted, until tonight, Haru never knew that he wished for it._ ) It was just a moan. A normal, ambiguous moan.

... It really didn't sound like that though. It really sounded like his name.

Could Makoto... want him? Sexually? Haru had never really considered that before. It occurs to him in this moment that Makoto had never really talked about girls, as teenage boys are supposed to do (or so Haru has heard.) It was clear that girls wanted him, but he never really seemed to pay it much mind. Haru had always just assumed that he wasn't interested in that kind of thing. But looking at him now, it's clear that Makoto isn't ignorant to his sexuality. He supposes that it's strange, close as they are, that they'd never talked about it before.

_Have we been avoiding the subject?_

"Hnnnggh..."

Makoto demolishes Haru's train of thought with another strangled noise and a desperate arching of his back. Facing Haru as he is, Makoto almost pushes himself straight into him and Haru has what could probably be classified as a minor heart attack. Makoto's clothed cock nudges his leg again. He's brought back to thoughts of seeing Makoto's bare figure in the locker room. Haru knows - Makoto is very blessed. Even flaccid, his cock was a great deal larger than what was (Haru had heard) the anatomical norm. His whole body, really. He was... stunning.

And suddenly, some sort of dam breaks in Haru's mind and all these thoughts that he didn't even know he'd been repressing gushed to the surface in droves.

He wonders what Makoto's cock would look like hard. Naked. What color would it be? Haru had heard that the color of the head of your dick corresponded with the color of your lips. He hopes that's true, because Makoto's lips are flushed and rosy and wow they're really plush and swollen right now from Makoto biting them in his sleep. Haru is overtaken with the desire to kiss him. He wants to kiss him hard and deep, to map out the ridges and contours of his mouth and rub at the places that make him squirm. He wants to feel Makoto's tongue in his mouth, filling it up and driving him wild. If he rubbed Makoto's chest while they kissed, he wonders if Makoto with suck in a breath or sigh into his mouth. Would Makoto be the first to move to his neck? _No, Makoto is too bashful_. It would have to be Haru (not that he's complaining.) He'd part their lips with that wet noise he loves so much, and drag his lips over Makoto's cheek until he reached that sensitive junction between the jaw and the neck that he's seen people suck on in movies. He bets Makoto would love that. He'd kiss down his neck, feel Makoto move under his lips, make him moan. Oh, he wants to hear his voice some more.

Everything after kissing the neck is a little hazy for Haru - he only knows what he's seen in movies, really. And, of course, the things he does to himself, but he's always been very clinical about masturbation. He doesn't doddle - he gets to the point quickly and efficiently and then goes to sleep. He has a feeling, though, that there is supposed to be more between the kissing and touching his cock.

After the intense sexual urges die down for a moment, from the same dammed place that they came from Haru feels this intense rush of emotion that knocks the breath out of him. Makoto had always been there for him, hadn't he? There was no one else in his life quite like Makoto. Hell, there was probably no one else quite like Makoto, period. His gentle smile, his sweet laughter. He cared so much. He was so special. He's so strong, and yet so delicate. He's always relied on Haru for that extra push, that support, but Haru wonders if Makoto knows that he needs him just as much. Probably more. Some days Haru thinks that Makoto is probably the only substantial reason that he bothers to function. Damn, he probably couldn't even live without him. He definitely wouldn't want to.

And in that moment, Haru realizes with fluttering tremor of warmth that emanates from his chest to the tips of his fingers down to each of his toes that he is in love. He's in love with Makoto.

_How much time had he wasted not realizing?_

Haru is all at once a little tired and very emotional and painfully aroused, and the love of his life is lying right in front of him moaning his name and Haru's brain, suffering from remarkably impaired judgment, promptly instructs him to keep going. Keep touching. _Make him say your name again._

Haru reaches down, and touches the pronounced tent in Makoto's pants.

" ** _Ah!_** "

A fire is lit within him. The moaning was _really_ good, but not good enough.

_Say my name, Makoto._

He begins to rub along the outline of Makoto's thick shaft. He can feel the heat through Makoto's clothes. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Haru recognizes that this is wrong, but the heady feeling of Makoto's cock twitching under his touch wipes out his hesitation.

Haru takes his middle finger and thumb and starts to rub with more pressure along the fringe of Makoto's head. He's done that to himself before, and it sends heavy shocks of pleasure through him that are so strong they make him tremble.

Makoto seems to feel similarly.

" _HAHH!_ "

_Come on..._

"H-Ha, HAA-A..."

_Come on, Makoto..._

"Hnnn, Haaa... Ha- _Ha.. Harr.._ "

_Say it..._

He picks up the pace, adds a little more pressure, uses his other hand to thumb at the tip. Hard.

_Say it!_

" ** _HARU!_** "

Makoto cries out, with enough force and clarity to both wipe out any doubt from Haru's mind about the contents of Makoto's dreams and any also confidence he may have found in his delirium. What he's doing... oh, _god_ , it feels so good. It feels, _so, so good_. But it's wrong. If he's going to touch Makoto, he doesn't want it to be because of a loophole. An assumption. He wants Makoto to look at him and tell him it's okay.

With more guilt than Haru thought was physically possible, he withdraws his hand. He can feel a slight slickness on his fingers where Makoto's precum had soaked through his clothes. His own erection is pressing painfully against his pants, but he feels too dirty right now to even consider dealing with it. He would only end up fantasizing about things that would worsen his shame, that was for certain.

Haru stares at the ceiling, closes his eyes, looks anywhere but the boy next to him that he basically just molested, dubious consent or otherwise.

He hears a whimper.

"H-Haru... why'dja stop? M-More... please..."

 _Oh_.

The unexpected coherency of Makoto's words shocks Haru into shifting his vision right to Makoto's face. His eyes are open. Just barely, but clearly.

"please... keep goin'... 'm really close..."

Haru just about screams.

But he doesn't. In fact, he's probably never made less noise, which is really saying something, he knows. _He must still think he's dreaming_. Haru's afraid if he says anything, it will shatter the moment. Makoto will wake up for real.

But Makoto clearly asked. He looked him in the eye, and asked Haru to touch him.

Haru slowly, gently, with all the hesitation in the world - waiting for Makoto to come to his senses, to change his mind, _something_ \- reaches down and places his hand over Makoto's dick.

" _Mmmm..._ "

Makoto closes his eyes again, but Haru thinks it's from the sensation rather than because he's going back to sleep. Nevertheless, he starts to work his hand again. He moves slowly now, up and down the shaft, stopping to rub circles around the head. Makoto jolts under his touch. Haru uses one hand to press into the slit of the head and another to squeeze the base, and Makoto's cock physically throbs as a spurt of precum wets his finger through the cloth.

"Ohhh... Haru, I'm... 'm _really_ , c-close, I... _\--Oh..!_ "

Haru can feel his own cock pulsing in sympathy. He's leaking precum himself, despite not even being touched. He's never been so aroused in his entire life.

"Y...yours?"

Haru stills his hands at the question. His? He looks up to find that Makoto's cracked his eyes the littlest bit again, and is looking at Haru in a way that sets his skin ablaze. Haru can see the sleep in his eyes, but there's something else too. Something pleading. _Hungry_.

"You.. um, y'too... I want your... rubbin'..."

_Oh my god._

_He's asking, for..._

Haru's never been more eager to oblige in his entire life.

He lines their hips up carefully, trying not to move too quickly so as to start Makoto out of his "dream." Hell, at this point, Haru vaguely wonders if he's dreaming too. This is all so unreal. A dream would be the only logical explanation, really.

But then Makoto grips his hips and thrusts into him and Haru doesn't care if he's awake or dreaming or having a fucking near death experience. Even through layers of clothing, Haru can feel the heat and the slickness of Makoto's cock, and the way the curve of his shaft rubs against his is unfathomably _incredible_.

Haru thanks the heavens for his tendency for quiet, because god forbid he moan too loudly and bring this all to an end. He's desperate to feel Makoto's hot, wet, velvety skin on his own, but that would be too risky. For now, he'll settle for the slide of clothed skin, the friction of the cotton, the heat of Makoto's labored breaths mingling with his own. Pleasure is pulsing through him electrically, starting from the aching head of his cock outward. Haru feels like he's drowning in it, but god, in the best kind of way.

They've only been at it for a minute or so, but it's getting to be too much. Too much stimulation beforehand. The urge to come is getting harder and harder to resist, and Haru knows he can't last much longer. He can feel the growing tension at the base of his dick, the pressure building, balls tightening. His cock is burning, literally burning, with pleasure and oh _god_ he's dying for release. He wants to say something, wants to warn him, but Haru can't trust his voice right now and can't stop rutting against him and oh my _god I'm gonna come_.

"H-Haru.. I feel-- I can't-- i-it's gonna--!"

Haru can't help but release a throaty groan, feeling the wake of his orgasm rushing forward fast.

"Oh god, _a-a-AH!_ _HAR--!_ "

And Makoto is convulsing beside him, practically screaming a pleasured fragment of his name, cum hitting the inside of his pants and Haru can feel it beneath the fabric. The uneven thrusts pounding into him send him reeling over the edge, and Haru is coming harder and stronger than he can ever remember. His eyes are squeezed so tight he can see pinpricks of light beneath his lids, and his cock is throbbing so wildly with release that it takes the breath out of him. He wants to shout, an urge he's never felt so strongly before, but maintains enough presence of mind to settle for a silent scream escaping his lips.

As he comes down from his high, he opens his eyes a crack to watch Makoto descend from his. With a relief like he's never felt, he notes that it seems Makoto fell right down from orgasm back into sleep. Haru watches the aftershocks roll over Makoto, his hips twitching, shoulders jolting, and Haru feels like heaven as he indulges in his own. His eyes seem to shut of their own accord, and somewhere in the back of his mind he acknowledges the slickness in his boxers, but it's not enough to keep the exhaustion from washing over him. It's 2am, he's drenched in sweat, soiled the front of his underwear, possibly uprooted his relationship with his very best friend into frightening and uncharted territory, and Haru has never felt more at peace. He falls asleep with a rare grin gracing his lips.

 

°~•••~°

 

Haru wakes up to the rustle of sheets next to him, and the quietest exclamative he's ever heard. He can hear Makoto slip out of the bed next to him and tip-toe his way out into the hallway ( _Haru internally grins in spite of himself - he's trying so hard to be crafty_ ). He knows it's awful, but some sick part of him can't let him get away with it.

"Makoto?"

" **HARU!** " He practically shrieks in reply. Haru cocks an eyebrow at him. "I - um, I - I didn't want to wake you! I have to, uh, um... bathroom. Use it, I mean. Going to the bath. Room."

Haru stares at him pointedly for a moment, watching Makoto shift under his gaze. He's stiffly holding his hands in front of his crotch, probably trying to cover the stain that he ( _they_ , Haru recalls with some mix of pride and embarrassment) so covertly created in the wee hours of morning.

"'Kay," he yawns dispassionately. Makoto takes the opportunity to scurry out of the room as unsuspiciously as possible. He fails, but Haru finds the effort endearing.

Makoto must not remember any of it. At least not with any real coherency. To him, it was just a dream.

Haru isn't sure how he feels about that.

On the one hand, their relationship has, in effect, returned to normal. Theoretically, they could just resume their lives as always and remain best friends. Just friends.

Haru feels a weight drop in his stomach at that thought.

The other hand insists that the dam that broke in Haru's heart and mind last night can't just be patched up. Now that his boyish hormones have subsided, he's left with a sea of feelings that all need processing and consideration. 

So he's probably gay, or whatever. He never really cared for labels like that. All he knows is that he is in love with his best friend, and if that means he's gay, then sure. He's gay. He just can't care much about what's normal. All he cares about is that when Makoto comes slinking back into the room with his tail between his legs, apologizing for nothing in particular, a bright blush coloring his cheeks and shifting from foot to foot, Haru feels like he's floating.

_Normalcy be damned._

"Makoto. I want to tell you something."

 


End file.
